


Hydrangeas

by ectoBisexual



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Trans Male Character, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoBisexual/pseuds/ectoBisexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a number of things about Kenma that Hinata finds precious, but he couldn't put them into words if he tried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hydrangeas

**Author's Note:**

> Every day, he thinks. You and me. Just like this.

There are a number of things about the situation-- about Kenma-- that Hinata finds precious, but he couldn't put them into words if he tried. 

No, it's nothing so intelligible as words. Here is the sound of his blood, roaring and pulsing in his ears, the weightless paired with the concomitant pressure of the other boy on his arm. Here is an anchor, a deeply bleeding blue thing allowing him purchase. 

He started loving Kenma because of volleyball. Watching him play was otherworldly. When they met, Kenma swore he was boring; like Hinata was this sunny thing, so full of endless complexities, and Kenma was nothing. He had said-- and Hinata remembers this, though his penchant for remembering isn't all that great in other matters; that's Kenma's job-- "I don't really have any interests. There's nothing I care about."

Hinata remembers thinking that can't be right, and if it is--

If it is, he needs to do something. Needs to change that.

He remembers Kenma's gaze, so purposefully drawn as he watched others move with the ball; plotting, deciding. His volleyball uniform, hanging awkwardly off of his collarbone and exposing just the edge of his binder and Hinata's chirruping voice as he said, "you too?" later, yanking down his shirt to expose his own. No, Kenma doesn't care about anything. There is just enough not-caring to warrant all that light flooding to his eyes, the nervous tremble in his hands as he fiddled with his hem and said, "I thought it was just me."

Hinata was invited to his house for the first time that weekend, a long train ride past the sea and into the city. He put his overnight bag at the door to Kenma's bedroom and asked him about his Sea Oleena poster. The room was lived in, a mirage of pastels and books and later they played the album, while they climbed shakily onto Kenma's bed and Kenma whispered, "I don't know what I'm doing." 

He didn't. Their teeth bumped while  _Swimming_ started up and when Hinata's tongue brushed his and he got that first noise, a tired and longing sigh, he knew.

He was done for, ever since the first moment he laid eyes on Kenma Kozume.

Long distance was hard on the both of them but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. They didn't see each other for 3 months at one point, but texted every night and the next time Hinata came over, they locked themselves in Kenma's bedroom for nearly the entire weekend. It was a slow burning thing, the touch of exploring through hushed words, the desire to lie just with their legs touching above the covers and say nothing at all. They played games all weekend-- Kenma took him outside, showed him the yard where he was growing blue hydrangeas-- and when Hinata had to go this time he cried, complaining loudly into the collar of Kenma's shirt. It wasn't fair.

None of it was fair.

They slept together on Hinata's birthday. Kenma in his lap, rocking into the motions; Kenma on his back, face aflame at the endless stream of consciousness Hinata was spouting. He was having trouble articulating himself so he just said how he felt, a filterless course of emotion. Kenma tried squeezing his eyes shut, taking fists of Hinata's shirt in his hands as the other moved against him. The buzz of the vibrator kept making Hinata think of bees; that same absorption with pollen, only Kenma's eyelids kept fluttering, threatening to roll back. Incredible, Hinata thought. 

Kenma gave up and buried his face in Hinata's neck, trying to hide the noises tumbling from his lips; a slight, accidental shift forward, and he was moaning softly in Hinata's ear. 

Hinata remembers goosebumps down his neck, his eyes flying open, and then--

"Kenma, ah. I'm going to--"

His legs still shook, after. Kenma was more haphazard, a slick mess all over his thighs and a high pitched whine Hinata was pulling from him like water. When he came, the mangled syllable he gasped couldn't have been anything other than the beginning of Hinata's name.

Kenma, for someone who allegedly doesn't care, is very scared. He calls Hinata a lot and just breathes into the phone, wanting the other's never-ending monologue to calm him down. One night he calls Hinata crying, a nonsensical influx of words and garbled speech. Hinata shooshes and soothes him through it, waits for the other shoe to drop, and he hears--

"I don't know if I can do this any more."

How can be not grab the phone with both hands like he's sinking--

fuck Kenma flat on his back the next time he seems him because he needs that loose colour to shiver awake in the other's eyes--

or watch him sleep peacefully, bathed in sunlight the same gold as his hair, and think he's never been happier than right this second?

How can he not whisper back, "Of course you can do it, you're strong. You're so strong! You're brave, just a little longer, I'm here. I'm right here."

Sometimes Kenma kisses him like he's drowning. Other times he doesn't respond to messages because he is sitting still, too still, the world moving around him. 

He watches his typing style change, watches him grin with just a little more teeth each time; inflections of Hinata, bleeding like honey through his veins. Parts of Kenma work their way into him too and people comment that his eyes are different.

"It's sense. You're less of a dumbass because you're in a committed relationship," Kageyama teases, but that's not it, it's not it at all. It's love that'll do that to you, every time; unbridled devotion bleeding, wordless, to the surface for others to see. 

He graduates. Kenma waits, a year into college and alone in that apartment. Hinata doesn't tell him he's coming. He just shows up one day, armed with a bag and some hydrangea seeds in a little pot shaped like a cat, and Kenma bursts into tears. Hinata tastes them, rocking with them like the waves they hail from, a cataclysm of emotion at the abyssopelagic mercy of his boyfriend--

He gives in, again.

Kenma moans in his ear now because he means it. Hinata goes down on him for hours, their mix playing in the background, a happy hum ebbing from his lips and into Kenma every time he thinks about it. There is a list on the fridge of all the things they keep saying they are going to do. Number one is live together; Hinata, pleased, thinks about ticking it off as Kenma shudders around his lips, a hand stuffed over his mouth to keep the sound in. 

Hinata says, "I won't quit 'til you cry out, this time," and Kenma's eyes flutter shut.

Hinata keeps his word. The noise is wrung from Kenma, like seawater. 

They sleep in until noon and Hinata wonders about the rest of the list, the rest of their lives, a thing too far over the horizon to scare him any more. They'll have to start small when they grow their garden; complex rules says no pets but they'll sneak a cat in. He can see it now. Orange cat, brown dog, a big place where they can flit room to room or hole up in a corner wrapped in each other. Tomorrow he will call his friends and tell them to meet Kenma and him for drinks. Excitement bites at him, chews his stomach up in knots.

He watches Kenma breathe, the rise and fall of his shoulders, and the sea turns. Hinata likes to think they are both turning with it.

_Every day,_ he thinks.  _You and me. Just like this._

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a poem I wrote last year: http://www.quotev.com/story/2619890/And-That-Is-Eternity/62/


End file.
